Well, Maybe Just Tonight
by hyacinthian
Summary: Loving people that fall through rifts in time and space is always a bad idea. Talking about it while drunk? Eh, maybe a little worse. ToshOwen.


He shows up at her flat later that night with an uneasy smile and a black plastic bag. "I brought vodka," he says. "And a bottle of wine. Didn't know which you'd prefer." She doesn't know what to say, so she just moves aside and lets him in.

"It's nice," he mumbles as he traipses in and it half-occurs to her that he hasn't been over since she moved. But they haven't had much time to hang out or have drinks what with Gwen's arrival. Not that she resents it. It's nice to have Gwen around. They talk sometimes and she's nice enough. "A bit cold, though, Tosh, yeah?"

"What, the heat?"

"No," he says, as he looks around for the kitchen. She gestures him the way and he begins to walk over. "The interior design."

She scoffs and settles her way over to the living room. "There's another bottle of wine in the fridge," she calls. "Bring that out too."

He returns and pours them both a glass of wine. They clink glasses and she downs it and waits for him to refill it. "That was quick."

"Yes, well," is the only reply she can muster.

They're halfway through the second bottle of wine when she whispers, "I almost loved him, you know." A lovely warmth slowly sears its way through her and she holds her breath, almost like waiting for a miracle that'll never happen.

"What?"

"I almost loved him," she repeats as she reaches for the bottle. "I could have loved him."

Owen's eyes darken as he looks her in the eye. This is the only method of ascertaining the truth. It doesn't make her feel like jelly like it usually does, just makes her feel more empty. "Did you?"

"No." The answer is curt, like many of their one-sided exchanges and the only sounds are of glasses clinking with glass bottles. She grabs the bottle by the neck and takes a swig. It comes too fast and maybe her senses are just a bit impaired. The excess trickles out her mouth and slides down her throat and he wonders for the slightest second how it would feel to lean in and lick the wine off her neck. He licks his lips instead. Maybe he's gotten soft. "Owen?" The wine has made her lips redder and given her skin a nice rosy hue. He reaches for her hand, and her skin feels warmer too.

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to feel." She sets the wine bottle down and rolls over to lie on her back. The hardwood floor is uncomfortable, but she prefers it. She stares up at the ceiling with a soft sigh.

"Tosh," he says with a slight forced chuckle, "That's not a healthy impulse."

"You don't have to be here, you know."

"I want to be here." He finishes off the bottle of wine and wonders why he feels so open.

"Why?"

"You're not the only one this has happened to, you know." The words tumble out of his mouth before he expects them, and there it is. The truth lies in a half-drunken puddle of messy words in front of her.

"Diane," she whispers.

"And Tommy."

Tears well up in her eyes again and he wonders if she had time to ever really grieve her loss. "This is mad," she mutters. "I didn't even really know him."

"You knew him four years--"

"I knew him four days! Let's be honest." She takes a deep breath and looks him in the eye. "Let's be honest."

"No one can ever truly know how we feel," he whispers. "We are two in six billion."

She smiles and he thinks maybe he's finally done something right by her. But she merely hitches herself up onto her elbow and says, "Where's the vodka?"

He's never seen Tosh drink quite so much and he's pretty sure that he never will again. She takes her shots inexpertly and her grimaces are pretty comical, but her speech gradually slurs and she staggers and lists in her movement. "Owen," she murmurs as she tries to stand.

"C'mon, Tosh. I know what you're thinking." He takes her hand and leads her back to the main corridor. "Bathroom." He pauses and tries to think of the most logical place it could be. "Or kitchen, if we're really desperate."

She just groans and he leads her into a room. The room turns out to be her bedroom, but there's a bath in it as well. Tosh slumps against the toilet and he sits on the edge of the bath and looks around.

He can see her bed: the rumpled bedsheets, still unmade, and some of her clothes lying askew on the floor. Compared to the rest of her house, it's an abomination. They had sex.

He clenches his jaw and tells himself he's being irrational. She's a grown woman. Of course, she's going to have sex. It doesn't stop him from wondering how she'd be in bed.

When she's finished, he helps her up so she can rinse and brush her teeth before leading her towards the bed. She sort of flops down onto it and once he's assured of her well-being, he starts to head towards the door. "Owen?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't leave." She's already had one man leave her, permanently, he thinks. Might as well just sit down for a bit to satisfy her. Even his own reasons sound flimsy in his head. He sits on the edge and watches as her eyes flutter closed briefly before she opens them again. She's clearly fighting sleep. "Get in."

"What?"

"Just lay down with me for a bit." She pauses and catches her bottom lip with her teeth. "You're in no condition to try and go home anyway."

"I'm in plenty condition."

"You helped me finish off two bottles of wine and about half a bottle of vodka."

"I don't think it was me who was doing most of the finishing."

She takes a breath, sighs. "Diane and Tommy will never come back."

"No, Tosh. They won't."

"I--" She sighs. "Owen?"

"Go to sleep, Tosh." She stares at him for a moment before she turns onto her back.

"Why do I like unavailable men?" It comes out half a murmur, but he catches it all the same. He wonders if she meant it purposefully. To hurt him, or at least catch his attention.

"Tosh." He turns to look at her, but she's already fallen asleep and he should leave, but the bed is warm and outside of the bed is, well, not, and he's much too lazy to move right now. Besides, it's what, two a.m.? Might as well just spend the night. He sighs and pulls the covers up. She rustles a little and shifts closer to him. "I'm sure you'll find someone good for you. You deserve that, at least." As he closes his eyes, he thinks of Diane and Gwen and Tosh and all the women in his life and the only one who was really there for him all the time.


End file.
